"Fine. Keep listening and you'll know how we're doing."
"Will do. Tell Rick shoot straight."
Rick grinned. It was good advice. Nevertheless, apprehension had kept him in a sweat. He had never before been in a position where success or failure—and probably all their lives—hung on a single shot.
Scotty put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "This is just another shot, old son. You've made far tougher ones on the course back home."
"He's right." Hobart Zircon added. "You showed this afternoon that you could hit a small target with that unwieldy club you invented. Let's go."
Scotty took the lead, following the route he and Rick had explored the night before. Rick followed close on his heels, and Zircon brought up the rear. In spite of his bulk, the scientist was light-footed and silent.
They reached a point where the boys had tied a rope to a boulder the night before and now they paused to attach the rope ladder Rick carried. It was one of four they had fashioned. Two already had been placed. Zircon carried the last one. Scotty went down first, with Zircon following cautiously.
The ropes creaked, but held. Zircon stepped to firm ground and Rick followed down the ladder. They negotiated a bend in the trail, then Scotty stopped and held up his hand.
Rick took Shannon's bow from the quiver. While he was getting ready, Zircon made a last check with Tony and Chahda. When Rick signaled, Scotty led the way down the last few dozen yards of steep lava to the final shelf.
There, just out of sight of the guard, Scotty unslung his rifle. The dark-haired boy went forward and peered over the edge of rock that shielded them. For a long moment he surveyed the scene below, then backed away. Rick caught his gesture. It was time.